


the word distance

by closingdoors



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Angst, F/F, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Vanessa-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-04-08 00:35:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19096147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/closingdoors/pseuds/closingdoors
Summary: Vanessa stops sleeping two days after they get engaged.





	1. Chapter 1

And stars, which gave us the word  _distance,_    
So we could name our deepest sadness.

**Necessities, Lisel Mueller**

 

* * *

 

 

 

Vanessa stops sleeping two days after they get engaged. She begins to see why Rhona's addiction to painkillers started.

It's good timing on her part, because Charity stops hovering after she gets that ring on her finger, as if that's the happy ending to it all. There, she's cured now. Power of love and all that.

She  _isn't._ She has to go to hospital weekly to have her dressings changed and it still hurts to move unless she has painkillers in her system and she hasn't let Johnny out of her sight since it happened.

It builds and builds inside of her, a frustration, an anger she hasn't a name for. She wants to cave Cain Dingle's head in after he kisses Charity,  _especially_ when Charity leads her away with a sigh like she's a toddler, but she's still too weak to really do anything but throw threats at him in the street.

It's not like she's unproductive, though. She doesn't lay all night wallowing. After a week of surviving on cat naps she's made Johnny a new jumper, full of lumps and dropped stitches. She promptly drops it in the bin and starts again.

Noah finds her at two in the morning, knitting feverishly in the kitchen. He pours himself a glass of water and she says, "you should be sleeping, you have school tomorrow."

"Teacher training day," he replies, probably a lie, "you should be sleeping. You're s'posed to rest."

"The doctors said the pills might keep me awake," she tells him. A lie.

Noah pours another glass of water and places it in front of her. He goes retreats back to his room and she makes sure to go back to hers before Charity wakes up. The glass is still sitting there when they go downstairs for breakfast, and Charity dumps it out and shoves it in the dishwasher.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

"Babe?"

Vanessa blinks awake to find Charity crouched beside her. Her fiancée is dressed for the day, frowning, and Vanessa groans. Everything hurts.

"What're you doing on the floor?" Charity whispers.

"Pills first," she replies.

Charity retreats. On his bed, Johnny snuffles in his sleep. Vanessa tries to push herself up to sit but it hurts too much, so she continues laying on the floor, sweating from the exertion. Charity returns and supports her to sit, guiding water and pills into her hands.

"You know, you should think about letting him go back to nursery," Charity says quietly, watching Johnny sleep, "Moses misses him." 

"Not yet." 

Charity takes the glass from her, brows pinching into a frown. "Babe, you know I'm really sorry about what happened, yeah?"

The words  _it wasn't your fault_ rise automatically, but she stops herself, because it kind of was, actually, no matter whether it's fair that she thinks as much or not. She's pretty fucking sick and tired of being nice.

So she doesn't say anything, and Charity helps her stand, and goes back to doing whatever it is she does when she's supposed to be working but doesn't want to. Vanessa sits in Johnny's room and continues working on a jumper.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The nurse examines her wound, giving her a bright smile, assuring her that it's healing beautifully. She's in the hospital for another fifteen minutes for the redressing before she's discharged, another prescription for her painkillers in hand. Charity hums along to the song on the radio as they drive to the pharmacy.

Vanessa stays in the car, too exhausted to go in and wait with her, scoffing over that stupid word.  _Beautifully._

None of this is beautiful. Nothing about the wound and the pain and the nightmares is beautiful. That skin's never going to look the same, actually, no matter how well it heals. Either she's left with a three-inch scar or a one-inch scar. Either way, there's still a scar, and at the moment it's bright red and as angry as she is. Bye bye, bikinis.

It's a stupid to thing to be upset about. Yet she is.

Charity climbs back into the car with a cheery, "Chas said she'll cover the rest of the day. You want to get some lunch? Been a while since we had a second without the kids."

Vanessa bristles. " _I_ like spending time with my son."

"Ness, I didn't mean - "

"Just drive, Charity." 

For once, Charity does as she's told, and Vanessa's overcome with anger for the fact that she's grateful for it. She shouldn't be grateful that her fiancée listens to her. That should be a given.

But it isn't with Charity, and she used to endure it and roll her eyes and smile good-naturedly. Now though, Charity's selfish and pig-headed ways have almost cost her and Johnny their lives.

 _This was because of you,_ she thinks, watching Charity drive,  _this is all because you wouldn't compromise._

Vanessa has always thought she had a backbone. She wonders when she'd let herself become Charity's doormat.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

She doesn't sleep, but when she does, she wakes from nightmares feeling like she hasn't rested for a second.

Charity continues sleeping blissfully beside her. Vanessa licks her dry lips and presses her heels into her eyes, letting her vision pop. She briefly considers grabbing her pillow and screaming into it, but then she'd wake Charity.

Vanessa grits her teeth. During the Bails trial, Charity had been loud and open with her trauma. She'd drank and yelled and woke Vanessa up at whatever ungodly hour she'd finally collapse into bed, uncaring that she'd woken her, or grateful for it, because it meant she had a chance to angle for sex.

But Vanessa can't  _do_ that, because she's the one that picks up the pieces, the one that puts them back together. She's rational and responsible and makes sure Noah has lunch to take to school because Charity always forgets and tiptoes around the Dingles as they have their screaming matches. She's not allowed to fall apart, so instead she counts back from ten, and when that doesn't work, she does it again, and again, until she's sick of numbers and gets up to sit in the kitchen, knitting Johnny his jumper.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Debbie is out of the back door into a flash, eyes wide when she bumps straight into her.

"Vanessa," she says tightly, "sorry." 

Vanessa just shrugs, dropping her cigarette to the floor and crushing it beneath her boots. Though Charity's daughter may be a lot of things, she isn't a snitch, so she knows this will stay between them.

Vanessa pops a mint into her mouth and sprays herself with perfume for good measure.

"Everything okay?" She asks, though she knows it isn't, and she knows it has something to do with Cain, because it's  _always_ got to do with Cain.

"About as okay as you are. Mum's worried about you."

"Brilliant," Vanessa says flatly, and pushes back into the pub, closing the door behind her.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

At some point, she wakes from a nightmare sure that someone's attacking her.

Her hand curls into a fist, swinging out wildly, adrenaline pumping through her veins. 

Charity narrowly ducks out of the way. Vanessa barely registers the familiar head of hair and twists, her wound screaming in agony, jaw clenched as she hits out again. This time, she connects with Charity's shoulder.

Charity grabs her wrists, holding so tightly she's sure it'll leave bruises.

"Babe, it's me," she pants, clutching even harder when Vanessa tries to shake her off. "Look at me. It's me." 

She relaxes her grip as Vanessa's senses begin to come back to her. Her eyes drop to Charity's shoulder, and for a moment she's disappointed to find that she hasn't bruised yet, and then her stomach turns at the thought. She pushes Charity away and stumbles into the bathroom to throw up. Charity doesn't follow after her.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Once the redressings stop and the doctors no longer prescribe her the good stuff, she finds herself going for long walks. First it's just around the village and then she's up at Home Farm, then Butler's, and then wherever she wanders after that. She gets home with feet blistered and raw, allowing herself to bath for the first time now that she's allowed to get the wound wet. Charity muscles her way into the bathroom and Vanessa sinks her body under the bubbles.

"Where've you been?" Charity demands.

"Out."

"Yeah, and you've been out every day for a week now with no text to even say where you were," Charity strops, waving her arms. "Babe, you can't do that."

"I'm not a child, Charity."

"Then maybe stop acting like one, yeah?"

"What, getting sick of me?" 

Charity glares. "I don't know what's going on with you, but it stops.  _Now."_

 

Vanessa flicks some water out of the tub disdainfully. She's sure Charity's never met a problem she couldn't shout away, but she refuses to wither under her words. Charity glowers and she simply tips her head back against the ceramic, eyes on the ceiling.

"Whatever you say goes," she spits, and hears Charity slam the door on her way out.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Noah finds her again, in the kitchen, knitting. It's four in the morning on a Saturday and his eyes are slightly red. She knows he's been up all night playing video games, but she doesn't comment, and he rifles through the cupboards for a bag of crisps and a coke. He glances at her, like she's going to say something, but she just shrugs. 

He sets the bag of crisps in front of her and heads upstairs with the coke. Her stomach grumbles and she glances at the flavour. Ready salted. She wonders if it was a purposeful choice on his part of if he'd just picked a packet at random. The former thought makes her grip her knitting needles so hard they leave lines in her palms. She drops three stitches and then launches the jumper across the room. The ball of wool it's still attached to rolls off the table and follows it. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Because she can, she tries the Charity Method Of Dealing With Issues. Which means, she tries to solve things with sex.

Charity is more than eager to please, especially since there's been such a chasm in intimacy since the stabbing. Charity's so wound up Vanessa's barely touched her before she's found her release, fingers tight in Vanessa's hair, her breath hot against Vanessa's cheek. It's the sort of thing that used to make Vanessa press their skin together, but now she pulls away, her skin itching at every point they're connected.

Charity tries to coerce her onto her back, but then a door slams downstairs. Every muscle in her body locks. Charity's palms rest against her back as she gazes up at her.

"Chas," Charity explains softly. "Probably locking up." 

Vanessa's body won't accept the words, though. She stays rigid, on edge, even as Charity's hands sweep in an attempt to be comforting. Eventually she feels Charity's lips on her neck and then her fingers between her legs, but after fifteen minutes of getting absolutely nowhere near the edge, she pushes off of Charity and gives up on the whole affair. 

Charity conks out in a matter of minutes. Vanessa pulls her legs in towards her chest. Every part of her screams  _run._

She doesn't even know where she'd go. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Vanessa nods and hums in the right places as Rhona goes on a tangent about Pete. She stares into the space above her friend's head, wondering if she'd always been this boring, if everyone around her outside of the Dingles has always been this boring, this  _safe._

She'd been stabbed in the stomach and hadn't been able to move to save her son. Charity had done that, and knocked the bloke out for good measure, and the whole village is still in a state of surprise by her loyalty. Still, it's the story she's heard in passing gossip from other's most. They gloss over her like she's just a footnote. Charity doing a Fast and Furious is the  _real_ story they want to tell. 

"...Vanessa?"

She blinks to find Rhona's staring at her expectantly, giving her a smile.

"What?"

Rhona's smile wavers. "I asked if you knew when you'd be coming back to work." 

Vanessa stands suddenly. The table jars with her movement and coffee spills over the edges of the mug. Bob glances over at her as he serves at the counter. 

She's suddenly very aware of eyes on her, even Chas, who wanders in from the back. Instead of offering Rhona an explanation, she simply walks out, walking and walking and walking, even as her scar tugs with each step.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Of all the people to seek her out, she hadn't expected it to be Cain bloody Dingle, and yet it is. She's shivering in the cold night air, watching over the rolling fields, and he leans against the fence beside her without offering her his coat. 

"Whole bloody family's out looking for you, you know," he says. "Guess they like ya."

Vanessa crosses her arms over her chest and doesn't say a word.

Cain heaves a sigh. "Look, my car's warm. I can make it a five minute drive or a twenty minute one. Your call."

"Thirty," she says, her tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth for a second.

"Alright. Thirty, then."

They trudge through the mud and the grass back to Cain's beat-up car. He's right, it is warm, like he's kept the engine running even though he'd been walking through the fields to find her. Vanessa holds her hands in front of the heaters, knees knocking together.

"How'd you know where to find me?" She asks after ten minutes of silence.

"Seen you knocking about up here. Figured you'd be here somewhere." 

Vanessa nods. She reaches into her jean pocket for the first time since she'd stalked out of the pub without a word. There's half a dozen missed calls from Rhona, a few from Chas, and thirteen from Charity. She has just as many texts - ranging from worried to furious - from her fiancée. She has no doubt that the four voicemails she's left her are all yelling. She throws the phone onto the dashboard without listening to or replying to a single one. 

Cain drives her through the long, unnecessary side roads, the ones she'd first used to drive to the village. Had she known back then what she'd be in for, she thinks she might've turned around. She loves Charity, but she's not sure if she loves her  _enough_ anymore. She doesn't recognise the woman she sees in the mirror and she doesn't recognise the woman she sees when she looks at Charity, either.

Vanessa sighs, slipping her ring off and rolling it around in her palm.

"When you tried to kiss Charity," she begins, "didn't you think about Moira?" 

Cain rubs at his stubble. "Not really, no." 

"Don't you think you should? Because you love her?"

Cain glances at her, eyes narrowing.

"Are you still riled up about it?"

"No," she says, then, "yes. I don't know." 

"Because... well, I was in a state," he tells her, and clears his throat. He's just as good at talking as Charity is. "She could've been anyone. It wasn't because it was  _her._ "

"Yes, it was." 

Cain sighs and nods. "Yeah. It was."

They pull up at The Woolpack fifteen minutes later. All the lights are still on even though it's well past closing time. She stares at the windows, at the silhouettes of her new family, and can't find any reason to go inside other than to check on Johnny. Beside her, Cain switches the engine off.

"Not that you care what I think, but I reckon Charity's mad about you. You know me and her have a lot of history. Doesn't normally take much convincing to bring her back to me. With you, well... I dunno. Guess I didn't think she'd ever find anyone as nice as you and be interested in 'em. Think I might be wrong, though."

She wonders if that's supposed to be encouraging, and if that's all she'll ever be: nice. And if so, what's so wrong about that - why does that mean she isn't enough for Charity?

She doesn't say anything, just climbs out of the car, and slips into the pub through the backdoor. She can hear the sounds of Charity and Chas yelling at each other in the pub. Most of it's Charity, because she always has to be the loudest in the room, while Chas is trying to calm her down, insisting that she's alright, she's probably just letting off some steam.

Vanessa listens with mild interest. Charity hasn't shown any indication of being worried about her to her face; she's heard about it from other people. Some part of her wonders how much it's all for show. How much of her relationship with Charity is her fiancée showing off that she's keeping something pinned down for once.

She loses interest quickly and begins tiptoeing her way up the stairs. Noah's sat at the top of them, watching her. She wonders if he's going to say he was worried about her, too.

Instead, he says, "I put your knitting in Johnny's room."

She thinks it means the same thing.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Charity finds her at three in the morning, knitting in Johnny's room. She's so furious a vein appears in her forehead, ready to pop, and Vanessa watches it with amusement, which only makes Charity seethe even more. 

They leave Johnny's room to have a shouting match downstairs. Or, well, Charity does. She lectures about worrying her, about not keeping in contact, about never  _talking,_ always snapping at her without a reason for it.

Vanessa laughs in her face. "All of those things, Charity? They're exactly what you do to me.  _Every_ day."

"Yeah, but I'm  _me,_ babe," Charity replies, like that explains things, and maybe it did once, but not anymore, because this woman is supposed to love her yet she hasn't noticed that she hasn't slept through the night in two months now.

So Vanessa takes off the ring and presses it into Charity's hand.

"I don't want this anymore," she says, watching Charity reel back like she's just been slapped in the face. "You can give it back to me if you ever decide you want me when I'm _me_."

"I love you," Charity replies, and sometimes Vanessa catches her looking surprised at the words, like she can't believe it. She has that same expression now. "Of course I want you." 

"No, you don't. And I don't want you." 

Charity's eyes harden. Her fingers close around the ring.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm done, Charity," she says. "I'm done with you walking over me all the time. I nearly lost my job because of you and then I almost lost my son. I'm _allowed_ to be angry about that."

"Johnny's fine - " 

"Well I'm  _not!"_ She protests. "If you paid the slightest bit of attention, you might've actually noticed that."

Her chest heaves. She waits for Charity to say something rational. Like:  _maybe you should go to therapy, because it's clear you really fucking need it._ Or:  _I'm sorry, I'll try to be better._ Maybe even  _okay, whatever you need, I'll give you._

Instead what she gets is: "I  _do_ pay attention, but you're acting like a bloody teenager all the time and it's getting pretty boring, babe." 

"Well that's sorted, then. We're over." 

Charity crosses her arms over her chest. "Fine. We're over. You happy now?"

"Over the moon," she spits, and the worst part is that most of her means it.


	2. Chapter 2

In all of her anger, she hadn't had a chance to think logically about breaking up with Charity. 

After an exceptionally frosty reception from her now ex-fiancée at breakfast, she packs hers and Johnny's bags and heads over to Tug Ghyll. Her used-to-be-home. Except all the rooms are already full, though Tracy looks apologetic about it.

In the end, Pearl puts them up in her spare room. 

At night, Johnny curls his little body against hers. She rests under the covers, stroking a hand through his hair, watching the deep night sky swirl into a waxy gold of morning. There's no ring on her finger to glitter in the sunlight anymore. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Rhona makes them both a brew in Pearl's cramped kitchen. The woman, thankfully, is working a morning shift, though Vanessa wouldn't be surprised if her gossip sensors would catch a blip on her radar and send her rushing straight back home so that she wouldn't miss anything.

Vanessa's memorised the pattern of the wallpaper and her tea has gone cold by the time Rhona's brave enough to ask about Charity.

"What's going on, Ness?"

"Nothing's going on."

Rhona snorts. "You got engaged, did a disappearing act, then came back and dumped her. There's something going on."

"What? I'm not allowed to have an opinion? I'm not allowed to make decisions about  _my_ life?" Vanessa thunders, grabbing the mug and thumping it down on the table for good measure. "It's nobody's business but mine and Charity's, alright?" 

Rhona at the very least has the decency to look slightly ashamed. She winces, curling her hands around her empty mug.

"I'm just worried about you. You're my best friend, Ness. I just want to make sure you're okay." 

"Well, just take a look. I'm fine. All better now."

Rhona reaches over to take her hand, but Vanessa snatches it out of reach.

"I didn't mean... your health. Though, of course, I'm glad you're better. You're just - you're not being yourself lately."

"What if this is who I am? What's so bad about that? What, only Charity's allowed to be the dramatic one?  _She's_ the only one who can yell and be heard? I can be just as bloody loud, too!"

Vanessa launches the mug at the wall opposite. The china smashes and litters on the floor in a dozen different pieces. Rhona jumps to her feet and Vanessa stays sitting, breathing hard, fists clenched. 

"I'll clear that up," Rhona says quietly, and she does, and leaves without another word.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Every part of her body feels like it's on fire.

It comes on slowly at first. The duvet at Pearl's is too thick and heavy, which must be why she sweats so much at night. They have an unusually warm spring, which is why it always feels like her t-shirts are too tight on her, sticking to her skin. She's starting to think she might be allergic to Pearl's detergent, since she itches and her skin blotches red.

She closes her eyes one night and there's fire everywhere. Not just The Woolpack, but crawling towards her, surrounding her until there's no escape. 

Vanessa jolts awake in a pool of her own sweat. Her hair is damp against her skull and the sheets are matted against her body. She rips herself out of the bed, stumbling towards the window, shoving it open and gasping for air.

"Mummy?"

She registers Johnny's voice distantly. There's not enough of  _her_ left inside to comfort him. All there is is anger and fear, and right now she can't breathe, everything's too hot, too much -

She stumbles down the stairs and fumbles with the lock on the front door, collapsing onto the gravel outside. The night air is freezing and she gasps. Some part of her body must recognise it, because she's shivering, but it still feels like there's flames licking up her spine.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

During one of her walks around Home Farm, she finds herself grabbing stones from the ground and launching them as far as she can. Each time she draws her arm back, there's a sharp pain in her abdomen, right where the scar is.

She knows, logically, that she's healed, that it's all psychosomatic in nature. It's still there though, and she grits her teeth against it, throwing the stone with all her might. It flies a pathetic three yards before it drops into the grass.

She finds herself crying over it, and then she's angry, swiping at her cheeks. She's useless. So bloody  _useless._ Sure, she'd never be winning any weightlifting competitions, but she'd always thought there was a bit of fight in her. A spark. Now everything is tired and aching, not just her body but her mind too, and she doesn't know where to put the anger down.

A car passes her, slowing down as it gets nearer. Vanessa blinks her tears away and spots Moira in the front seat. She doesn't stop, just gives Vanessa a nod in acknowledgement that she doesn't bother to return.

It used to be that she'd be round Moira's constantly, sharing a brew and gossiping about Moira's complicated love life. They'd go for drinks at the pub. She'd even confided in Moira about Rhona - the farmer had been the only one there for her after the truth had come out, and she'd never once judged her for it. She hadn't even been too angry about Adam's potential fatherhood, in the end.

But now Moira has Cain and the friendship has dwindled, their romantic and family dynamics too complicated to bother rekindling it, and then Moira's driving away and she's angry at  _her_ too, at the friends she's lost in this village. She used to be on nights out every weekend. She'd never had a shortage of people on hand to bitch and moan with, to go to the café with, to simply spend time with. She'd been an independent, a woman thriving in her social life.

And now she has Charity and Johnny. Well, she doesn't even have Charity anymore, and it doesn't matter that Charity doesn't have her anymore, because she's always been her own woman in or out of a relationship.

Vanessa wipes the tears from her eyes and walks back home.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

When she goes to The Woolpack for the first time after their break up - a whole three weeks - Charity isn't serving, and she'd be lying if she says she wasn't disappointed.

She's supposed to be meeting Tracy for lunch, so she grabs them both a drink and a booth and ignores the way Chas smiles at her a little too sympathetically.

After twenty minutes of waiting, she calls Tracy, who sounds like a fish on dry land. Apparently she's caught the flu and had completely forgotten about their arrangement. Vanessa's first instinct is to scream at her, but then Noah appears out of the back, and she simply wishes Tracy a speedy recovery.

Noah grabs a packet of pork scratchings, ignoring the slap on the wrist Chas gives him for it, but heads over to her when he spots her. She quickly downs the last of the drink.

"Alright?" Noah asks, sliding into the booth.

"Yeah, not too bad," she lies, letting her fingers run along the cool condensation around the glass, giving her a reprieve from burning. "You?" 

"I'm alright," he says, which she suspects is also a lie. "So why'd you do it?"

"What?" 

"Break up with mum." 

Vanessa drops her gaze to the table, cheeks warming. "I had to." 

"Okay," he says, surprising her. He smirks when she glances up. "I get it."

"Do you?" 

“I get nightmares sometimes too,” Noah admits quietly, “about Joe."

“I’m sorry. I’d never realised.”

He just shrugs. “S’alright. Mum’s a bit rubbish with that stuff too.”

She’s more than aware of that now. Vanessa sighs, resting her elbows on her table.

“She should be better to you.”

“I know. But she isn’t, so…” Noah fiddles with a place mat. “Whatever.”

And she hears what he isn’t saying: that they both love someone who, most of the time, doesn’t know how to love them back.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

A month after she leaves Charity, she finishes the jumper she's knitting for Johnny. She shoves it over his squirming head one evening to make sure it fits. The maroon colour washes him out slightly, and it's a little too loose around the underarms. For a brief moment, she finds herself thinking it'd be a better fit for Moses.

She chucks it in the bin and starts again.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

One night, she rests against the wall she'd propped herself against after the stabbing. She can still remember how  _warm_ her blood had been against her hands. How much she'd been trembling as she'd called Charity and found herself overcome with sobs, too upset to say anything coherent. Her legs had tingled during it all, and she'd feared being paralysed, or contracting Tetanus, or any manner of infection a used beer bottle could bring.

She stares across at the back door of The Woolpack. There's nothing to show it'd ever been torched at all. They'd replaced the windows before she'd been discharged from hospital and Charity had paid Noah a tenner to add a fresh layer of paint to the door to hide the scorch marks.

The door opens. Vanessa freezes when Charity comes into view.

Charity approaches her, leaning against the wall with her, staring at the pub.

"Saw you from the window," she says, in a softer tone than Vanessa's ever heard, far softer than she deserves, "thought you might want some company."

She scratches at the back of her neck, where sweat's already begun gathering. She wonders if she'll ever remember what it feels like to be cold again.

"It doesn't look any different. The pub," Vanessa clarifies. "You wouldn't even be able to tell something happened."

Charity reaches out and links her fingers with Vanessa's. She allows it, chin wobbling as she tries to keep the tears in. 

Because, no, it doesn't look any different, and you wouldn't be able to tell something had happened, but the glass in those windows will always be new, and the fresh paint is only around the edges, and she'll always know those differences are there.

"No," Charity agrees eventually, "you wouldn't." 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Vanessa goes back to work. Rhona hovers around her like a nervous cat, darting away whenever she's caught lingering. Paddy stammers over his words, especially if any of the Dingles are mentioned. Pearl is - well, she's Pearl, just as Belle is Belle, and they all try to ignore the elephant in the room.

Still, at least her suspension is up, so she can actually do something she loves. She can be the person she  _is,_ as a vet.

Except, she doesn't love it, and she doesn't remember how to behave like Vanessa Woodfield, Local Vet. Vaccinating herds of cows is long and boring and giving a puppy its shots even more so. The hours drag and sometimes her hands shake too much from coffee to suture properly and the customers begin to give her looks, like they know, like they can see right through her.

"What are you looking at?" She snaps at a customer one day, a young woman with her first cat, and the woman stammers over an apology and says she  _wasn't looking at anything_ but it's too late. Vanessa is abrasive for the rest of the consultation and then refuses to treat the animal.

Paddy pulls her aside with words like  _concerning behaviour_ and  _representing the practice,_ so she shoves her scrub coat at him and says she's taking the rest of the week off.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Of course, the village being what it is, they gossip about her and Charity and what lead to the breakup. She's heard a dozen versions where it turns out Charity realised she'd missed men, and cheated on her with any man they first think of. Another is that they'd simply gotten bored of each other. The most ludicrous one suggests Charity had been trying to con her out of money, but gave up because of Vanessa's suspension and lack of income. 

Charity serves her at the pub one evening and all eyes are on them, she knows, as Charity passes her her glass and she hands the money over.

"It's good to see you, babe," Charity announces loudly, giving her that easy smile, and Vanessa loves her, she really does, but she then she says, "especially with some money." 

Charity glances at the rest of the pub, who all look away quickly, and Vanessa feels her hands ball into fists. She's  _had_ this discussion with Charity before - about her theatrics. After she'd declared Megan had been cheating on her dad to anyone and everyone close enough. 

But clearly Charity hasn't learned, or even bothered listening, and flashes her that smile again, and she hates it, she hates that smile.

So she does what she's been best at doing lately. She leaves.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Vanessa does go to her GP in the end, crying when she tries to get the words out. He awkwardly pushes a box of tissues in her direction and says he'll get her on the waiting list for a counsellor.

The first appointment they offer her is in two months' time. The day the appointment letter arrives, she's already yelled at two customers, Pearl, and Johnny.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

"D'you think I'm boring?"

Tracy laughs. "What are you talking about? You're the funniest person I know, V." 

The world has been sloped at a seventy degree angle for the past three drinks now. Her sister's face blurs as she leans in and pinches the wine bottle Vanessa's clutching.

"I think it's time to cut you off, though." 

"What? No. Give it here." Vanessa fumbles for the bottle, but can't really see her hands. "I'm  _fine,_ Tracy. I'm better than fine!"

Tracy's face crumples up suddenly. "I'm really worried about you."

Vanessa huffs, pushing to a stand, but the world spins and she staggers until her hip catches on the counter. She steadies herself as Tracy rises, carefully approaching her, like she's some sort of wounded animal that'll lash out at any second.

Maybe she is.

"What? It's only alright when Charity drinks, yeah?"

 "It isn't alright when she does it either, V," she replies quietly. "I'm scared about where your head's at."

"My head's  _fine_."

Tracy steps closer, reaching out, but Vanessa turns away.

"Johnny told dad he's scared of you."

Vanessa snaps around, the world teetering from all the movement.

"What?"

"You know, when he visited last week? Apparently Johnny told him when you went to make a brew. We were thinking... me and Dad, we thought maybe you might want a little break. Sort yourself out."

"A break," Vanessa repeats, tongue thick.

"Maybe for a week or two. You know, we can watch Johnny between the two of us - "

"No! Absolutely not. No way." 

"I just thought it'd be better - " 

"I said  _no_." 

"V, we don't  _want_ to take him, but you've not given us a choice." 

The words are barely out of Tracy's mouth before Vanessa's crossed the room and landed a right hook across her face. Tracy gasps, stumbling back, clutching her cheek.

Vanessa moves close, and this isn't like their pathetic bar brawl all those years ago, this is something  _real._ She's shaking with adrenaline, vision foggy with fiery anger, and all she knows is she has to keep Johnny. She has to. Whatever it takes. No-one is taking her boy away from her again.

So she lashes out, catching Tracy's mouth, backing her up against the stairs.

"V," Tracy gasps, and she can't tell whether the red on her chin is smeared lipstick or blood, "what're you doing? Stop!"

But she can't, she  _won't -_ Tracy catches her fist this time and Vanessa kicks her shin. Tracy cries out, grip slackening, and Vanessa grabs her by the hair, throwing her down onto the floor. Tracy lands with a sickeningly heavy thud.

Their dad reaches the bottom of the stairs, and she turns her fists on him.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

The pain shooting up through her wrist is what wakes her. She peels her eyes open, mouth full of cotton, to find Charity standing by the window, sunlight streaming across her features.

Vanessa licks her dry lips. Charity turns to her. 

"My hand," she murmurs, sitting upright to get a good look.

Her right knuckles are swollen and mottled with bruises. Charity approaches, sitting by her hip, and takes it gently between her own. As she straightens Vanessa's fingers out, she hisses in pain.

"Broken, I reckon," Charity states. She doesn't let go of her hand. "Get dressed and I'll take you to hospital." 

Vanessa slowly withdraws her hand, cradling it against her chest. She carefully avoids mentioning how bruised her waist feels. She closes her eyes, remembering her Dad grabbing her from behind, so tightly she thought she might forget how to breathe. Tracy, still on the floor, smothered in red. 

"Tracy?" 

"She'll be alright. Had to have a tooth replaced, mind. Apparently you pack quite the punch."

Vanessa nods. She doesn't even remember getting back here, or who called Charity, or where Johnny is right now. She guesses, amidst trying to protect him, she'd lost him. The thought makes her bite down on her lip to keep the tears in.

She feels Charity's thumb against her lips, coaxing the flesh from her teeth. Vanessa opens her eyes to find Charity even closer, green eyes watching her carefully, and she doesn't  _deserve it,_ she doesn't deserve to be touched like this anymore.

"I think I need help," she confesses.

Charity sighs, wrapping an arm around her shoulder so that she can pull her in for a hug. Her other hand cups the back of her head, fanning through her hair.

"Yeah, kid. I think so too."

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

After a two hour stint in A&E, they discover she's fractured two of her knuckles. The doctors give her a splint, advise her on painkillers, and assure her they'll get her the psychiatric support she needs. So instead of a two month wait for a counsellor, it's now three weeks.

They drive back to the village in quiet, songs from the radio filling the space between them. The painkillers are starting to kick in and her hand's no longer throbbing, so at least the pain's no longer physical, yet she rests her forehead against the window and watches the rain, pain clustering inside her chest. 

"What are you thinking?" Charity asks when they stop at a red light.

"I'm not," she replies, and Charity doesn't push.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It turns out Rhona's looking after Leo while Frank helps Tracy recover. Pearl doesn't say a word, but she does watch her carefully when she walks in through the front door, clutching her phone. Vanessa packs her things and gives her an apologetic smile as she heads back out. Charity's waiting for her in the car outside. 

Vanessa startles when Charity doesn't drive her to the pub, but to a one-bedroom flat just outside of the village. She takes Vanessa's bags as they walk up to it. The stairwell has a damp smell, but the flat itself smells clean with a hint of chocolate. Charity disappears into the kitchen as Vanessa unpacks her belongings. She returns with a slice of chocolate gateau. 

"Comfort food," she says, offering the plate to Vanessa.

Vanessa takes it, sitting down on the edge of the mattress. "You organised all this?" 

"Last week," Charity admits, sitting with her. "I was gonna tell you. So you could sort of, I dunno, get a break. It was starting to look like you needed one. I didn't think it was this bad, though." 

A part of her thinks she should be mad that Charity knows her so well, even when they're apart, but didn't show any concern when they were still together. Instead of focusing on that she grabs the fork and shoves a bit of cake into her mouth. It's good.

"Ness... why didn't you say something?" 

"I just wanted to be like you," Vanessa finds herself confessing, covering her eyes when they burn, "I wanted to be strong."

"Not to sound like a cheesy movie, babe, but you were always my strength."

She nods, throat bobbing.

"I don't think I'm the same person I was," she says, glancing at Charity. There's no judgement, and she wonders if that's always been there, if she'd simply missed it before. "I think I'm always gonna be different now."

Charity gives her a small smile.

"That's alright."

What a funny way to say  _I love you,_ she thinks.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Rhona and Paddy authorise time off work. They assure her they'll be able to cover her, and if not, they'll get a locum. A tiny, niggling part of her feels guilty about this, but the rest of her is grateful that if she doesn't sleep at night, she doesn't have to worry about how she'll cope at work in the morning.

Rhona lets her speak to Johnny on the phone. He sounds happier without her. When she begins to cry, Rhona quickly takes the phone back, trying to give her comforting words. Vanessa hangs up and spends the rest of the day in bed.

It feels like all of her thoughts are too loud, bouncing off of the walls of this unfamiliar home. She tries to make it hers. She buys little ornaments to decorate and photo frames of Johnny hang from the walls. Most of the time she stays in her bedroom. Whenever the doors in other flats slam, she finds herself scrambling to hide under the covers, breathing quick and heartbeat pounding. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Charity's on the other side of the door when she opens it, car keys in hand.

"I'm taking you to your appointment," she states. Vanessa's suddenly very aware of how greasy her hair is in the ponytail and how unflattering the baggy comfort clothes she's wearing are. "You ready?"

"You don't have to take me."

"I want to."

There's not enough energy in her to fight anymore. She follows Charity down to her car. Inside there's a pack of lemon cake slices sitting on the passenger seat. Her favourite.

"You're gonna make me huge," she comments, opening the packet anyway. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

PTSD, the counsellor says.

"Sorry, but you've got to be wrong," she says, fiddling with the strap on her splint. "PTSD is for soliders. You know, brave people who've been through violent things."

The counsellor, a young woman named Amber whose hair matches the name, gives her a kind smile. Vanessa itches to punch it away, so she glances down, ashamed, remembering Tracy's blood on her knuckles.

"You  _are_ a brave person, Vanessa. You have been through something violent. It's not everyday you stop someone from trying to burn down your home."  

"And fail," Vanessa replies bitterly.

Amber scrawls something down. Paranoia crawls over the skin. Everything she's saying is being dissected, all her thoughts and feelings, like she's some sort of case study. Now she understands why it is Charity had said no to therapy all those months ago. It's a horribly uncomfortable experience to unspool your insides and ask for a way to fix them.

"Is that what you think you did, Vanessa? You failed?"

"Of course I bloody failed. He still set the fire anyway, didn't he? And got away with my boy." 

"You caught the man who tried to destroy your home. Who, without you as a witness, would've gotten away with it. That isn't a failure, Vanessa. That's a victory."

 

 

* * *

 

 

"So?" 

They'd been silent the entire ride back to her flat. Now, as Charity pulls up outside, she switches the engine off, staring at her expectantly.

Vanessa shakes her pharmacy bag. The pills, Sertraline, rattle in their foil packets. "Apparently I take these and they magically make me better."

"No therapy?"

"No, there is therapy. CBT. Every week," she explains, looking down to her lap. "Bet you didn't think this was what you were getting into when you proposed, eh?"

Charity's hand reaches out, tilting her chin up to face her. Vanessa clenches her jaw to keep the tears in. She's tired of crying. Tired of aching. Of barely sleeping at night. Everything hurts all of the time. She just wants to rest. 

"Babe, I want you however you are," Charity says. Vanessa's breath catches. "You know that, yeah?"

"I didn't."

Charity's fingers move, brushing through her hair, so tenderly she feels tears building again.

"You know, I always thought you were so bloody sunny. Lately you've just sorta been like... like a permanent eclipse, right? But still there." 

Vanessa frowns. "I don't want to be dark."

"Then you take these meds and you go to therapy. There's no shame in needing help."

" _You_ didn't."

Charity shakes her head. "You were my help, babe. Always are." 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The side effects of the pills are awful.

She sleeps all day, wakes only to eat and take another pill, and before she knows it drowsiness has taken her again. It doesn't matter how hard she tries to fight it. Whether she's sitting in the front room, knitting, or resting in bed, thinking. The sleep washes over her like a heavy blanket.

There are no dreams anymore, though. No nightmares, either. She's grateful for that.

Amber assures her that these side effects will pass, that it's just her body adjusting in the first couple weeks. Vanessa can barely even find the strength to protest it.

Charity texts her every evening, checking in on her. Sometimes her replies are incoherent because of the drowsiness, but Charity doesn't overstep, doesn't push. She understands. Vanessa thinks it shouldn't have taken getting to this point for understanding to come, but at least it's there now.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Amber's right. The drowsiness does pass. Not completely. She takes the pill before bed every night and it knocks her out within an hour. However, she doesn't sleep through the entirety of the next day after the third week. She heads to her follow-up appointment for her knuckles and they assure her the bones are completely healed, no issues there. So now she can go through the day without taking two different types of medication.

"Look who it is!" Rhona trills one day, bringing Johnny to see her.

Johnny twists out of Rhona's grasp and straight into Vanessa's. He feels heavier, his hair's longer, and she finds herself taking note of how much bigger he seems after just six weeks apart.

Johnny chatters excitedly about everything he's been up to recently. He's brought some of his favourite toys and sits on the kitchen floor playing with them as she makes them all some lunch. When she goes to the bathroom, he cries outside the door, demanding to be let in.

"You look better," Rhona says once Johnny's stopped crying, settled in Vanessa's lap. "I dunno what it is. You look like the old you."

"I'm just me," she replies simply.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

At first, she hesitates to tell Amber about attacking Tracy, but Amber assures her that it's a judgement-free zone. That if they're going to get anywhere, she has to start being honest.

So she cries, and she tells her counsellor about attacking her sister, about how she hasn't heard anything from her since, and that she's too much of a coward to call and see how she's doing. Because she has no explanation for why it happened, for why she got so violent - she's  _never_ hurt anyone like that before.

"Why don't you try a letter?" Amber suggests. "Just let everything out on the page. I'm sure she'd want to hear from you."

So Vanessa tries. She begins one letter that's too whiny and starts another that's too empty of emotion. She walks in circles around her flat trying to find the right words. She's not entirely sure there  _are_ right words for this situation. She just wants Tracy to know that she'll never forgive herself, and that she'll never forget a second of it. That sometimes she gets a ghost twinge in her knuckles and she thinks about the way Tracy had staggered after the first hit. That the clothes she'd been wearing that night had been smothered in blood. That she remembers Tracy hadn't once fought back to protect herself and she wishes she  _had,_ because god knows she deserved better than that.

And she's sorry. She's so, so sorry.

She can't find the right words, so she sends nothing and crawls into bed, crying under the covers. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Noah visits with Charity a week after. 

"Caught this one hovering while I got ready. Think he's missed you."

"Have not," Noah scoffs. His face reddens when Charity laughs. "You said we were going to get McDonald's."

Charity winks at her.

Thankfully, she's made more than enough dinner for the three of them. She finds herself laughing over the food with Charity, like no time has passed at all. Noah scarfs the spaghetti down in what feels like seconds. She wonders about how many nugget and chips meals Charity's been feeding him. God knows the woman can't cook.

They argue over who's going to wash up. In the end, Charity soaks the dishes and she dries them. There's a window above the sink and Vanessa studies Charity's reflection in the mirror, then glances at her own, painfully plain in comparison. 

"D'you think I failed?" 

"Failed what, babe?"

"Johnny. You," she adds. Charity frowns and Vanessa sighs, setting down the bowl she's holding. "I couldn't stop Donny from taking Johnny and then I couldn't hold it together long enough to stay engaged to you." 

Charity grabs the tea towel from the side, drying her hands. She's silent for so long that Vanessa worries her answer is  _yes._

"I think _I_ failed, babe. I wasn't there to stop him and I only found Johnny because you called me. Plus it was my big mouth that meant you were there in the first place."

"I don't blame you, Charity," she replies, and finds it's true. When they'd argued, she'd been so  _angry,_ but no matter how loud their shouts get she knows Charity would never want her in harm's way. 

Charity squeezes her shoulders. "No more blaming yourself, alright?" 

"Alright," Vanessa agrees softly.

In the front room, Noah's found her knitting box, the jumper she's working on in his hands. He drops it and closes the lid when they walk in and Charity begins pulling her shoes on.

"I like the colour," Noah says.

"What's that?" Charity asks.

"Thank you," Vanessa replies. 

Charity glances between the two of them, huffs, and leaves to grab their coats from the hallway.

"So, you and mum."

Vanessa shakes her head. "She's just being a friend."

"Do you think you'll ever, you know..."

There's something like hope in his eyes, which she doesn't think she'll ever understand. He'd fought against her so much at first and then lived in the same house by largely ignoring her. To be honest, she's surprised he's even here today after everything she's done.

"I don't know, Noah," she replies, watching his shoulders drop. "Right now I - I don't have the energy in me to focus on anything else but getting better. You know? That's got to be my priority."

"Yeah, I get it," he sighs.

Charity returns in her coat with her keys in hand, passing Noah his. She presses a lingering kiss to Vanessa's cheek before she goes, a quick squeeze to her hip for good measure, and Vanessa steps away with a polite smile, pretending not to notice the way her lips turn down at the corners in disappointment. 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The letter is in a plain envelope. She only realises it's something big when she spots the police stamp. She rips it open with trembling hands. Inside, she finds Donny's court date. 

Vanessa breathes through the tightness in her chest, the way Amber's taught her to. Eventually, her grip on the paper isn't so crushing.

Baby steps.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

Vanessa opens the door and finds herself wrapped up in a whirl of Charity.

She screws her eyes shut, fisting her hands in Charity's blouse, her forehead pressed against her shoulder. Charity's arms wrap around her tightly, squeezing just hard enough to mimic an echo of pain. 

"You got the court date," Charity says into her hair.

Vanessa's struggling for breath. She gulps air into her lungs but nothing helps and then - 

"Oh, babe," Charity murmurs, pulling away to cup her cheeks as the tears spill from her eyes. "I've got you." 

Vanessa lets herself sob, loud and raw, and Charity drags her closer again, pressing a kiss to her hairline.

"I've got you," she repeats softly, "you're okay."

 

 

* * *

 

 

Once she's stopped crying, she takes Charity through with her to the front room. They sit side-by-side on the sofa, Vanessa's legs curled up under her, knees knocking against Charity's as she reads the letter.

"I don't know if I can do it," Vanessa confesses, voice wobbling. "I don't know how I'm gonna - how I'm gonna cope being in the same room as him and describe what - what happened." 

An expression she hasn't seen before flitters across Charity's face. It takes her a moment to recognise it as empathy.

"Well, they can set you up in another room. They do that, don't they? You don't have to be there. And we'll be with you the whole step of the way. All of us. I'll get Matty to cover so Chas can come too, you know all the Dingle lot are behind you all the way - "

"No."

Charity frowns, resting a hand on her knee. Vanessa's so hyperaware of her that it  _hurts._ Why hadn't Charity been like this before? Why had it taken breaking something beautiful for her to be noticed? 

"You don't want us there?" Charity asks without meeting her eye.

"Not your family. Just you."

Charity glances up at her in surprise. "Just me." 

Vanessa nods.

Charity's hand withdraws and she takes a shaky breath. She carefully folds the letter and slips in back into the envelope, setting it on the side. Vanessa lets her eyes travel over the expanse of Charity's neck, dipping down to the two moles revealed by the v-neck blouse. It feels like a lifetime ago when she'd been able to love this woman without trauma filling the space between them. Those winter days before the stabbing and after the Bails trial had been her happiest.

"Well, you know me. I've seen my fair share of court rooms. I'll be there," Charity promises, turning to her with a smile and those _eyes,_ kinder than she's ever seen. "You doing alright?" 

Vanessa sighs, crossing the space between them to kiss her.

Charity tenses. Vanessa slides her hands into her hair, drawing her closer, and she feels Charity relax into it and finally kiss her back. 

"Ness," she whispers, pulling away, still close enough for their lips to brush when she speaks. "I don't think - "

Vanessa kisses her again, this time pushing her down onto the sofa cushions. Charity goes with it but she's still holding back; her kisses don't have the same passion they used to. 

"Charity." 

Charity cups her face again, thumbs running over her cheeks. Her hair's fanned out around her head and her lipstick's smudged, her blouse rumpled and showing off the lace of her bra. Vanessa's sure she's never loved anyone more.

"You're not thinking straight," Charity says. 

She isn't. Still, she asks: "What, are you with someone else?" 

At the question, Charity seems to melt like liquid in her arms. More like the woman she used to know. 

One of her thumbs moves, running along Vanessa's lower lip. 

"Don't be daft," she tells her softly, "you're it for me." 

"Well then," Vanessa replies briskly, throat tight with tears, "where's the problem?"

"Tell me if you want to stop. Any moment, Ness, just say the word."

 _That's my speech for you,_ she thinks, but she doesn't say it. Vanessa leans back down to kiss her and there's no more talking after that.

 

 

* * *

 

 

They eventually make their way to Vanessa's bed. Nighttime rolls around by the time Vanessa's skin has cooled and she rolls onto her side, facing the window, her back to Charity. 

The mattress shifts and she hears Charity leave the room. She sighs, rolling flat on her back, resting her arm across her eyes. She wishes she could name the feeling in her chest - she wishes she could make sense of loving Charity, but not deserving her; loving Charity, but not being the same woman Charity fell for.

Charity's footsteps return and Vanessa looks up in surprise. Charity gives her an oddly shy smile, handing her a glass of water. Vanessa takes it, grateful for the cold that spreads through her chest. 

Charity sits by her hip. "Babe - "

"You need to get back for Moses, yeah?" 

"No. Chas can look after him." 

Vanessa sets the glass on the side, glancing once more at the window. The sky outside is a dark violet. Vanessa thinks she could get lost in it.

"It's probably best if you go," Vanessa says as lightly as possible.

And  _now_ Charity's angry, she can feel it, coming off of her in waves. She feels her body tense where it's pressed against hers. 

" _You_ invited  _me_ into your bed, Vanessa." 

"I didn't ask you to stay in it." 

Charity reaches out, forcing her to look at her. Vanessa feels her stomach drop when she notices the pain in Charity's eyes. It's been a while since she's really  _looked_ at her the way she used to - she'd forgotten how much Charity felt, hidden away under all her layers of snark. Yet as much as she hates seeing Charity hurt, especially by her, she has no intentions of giving her false hope.

"It's me. It's us," Charity says. "We row and then we make back up - "

Vanessa sits up suddenly. "These past few months haven't been a  _row,_ Charity. I got stabbed! My son was taken - "

"But you're getting better - "

"So that makes me okay? You want me to go back to being your nice, boring girlfriend?" 

Charity balks. "Who said you were boring?" 

"Oh, come off it, Charity. Look at you and then look at me. Look at our pasts. They were all waiting for you to get sick of me. Everyone thinks it."

"Well  _I_ don't. Who gives a monkeys what other people think?" 

"I'm tired," Vanessa sighs, laying back down and turning her back to Charity again. "I want you to go." 

She thinks - and expects - Charity to argue. For a moment it feels like she will. But then Charity sighs, and she hears the sound of her gathering her clothes, and Vanessa knows this fight is over without a clear winner. 

"Call me if you need me," she hears Charity say softly, right before the door shuts.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"I think I'm gonna visit Tracy." 

Amber smiles. "That's a brilliant idea, Vanessa." 

It's a good day for it. Outside the sun is shining brightly and filters in through the windows, brightening everything in the room. The potted plants by her therapist's window look a little perkier and the woman herself seems to thrive in it. She's moved the chairs so that they're both sitting in it.

Vanessa used to feel like there'd be a time she'd never feel anything but unbearable heat again. She'd always remember the lick of the flames as Donny made his getaway, the panic that filled her throat when she thought about how Charity was still inside along with all her family. It's not so bad now, sitting in the sun. She thinks she enjoys the feeling of warmth. 

"I just - I don't know where to begin with her." 

"It's always best to be completely honest in these situations. You've been through a tough ordeal, Vanessa, and unfortunately that lead to consequences  - "

"I don't want to use an excuse."

"PTSD isn't an excuse. It's an explanation," Amber says patiently. "I know you see these things in black and white, but people are far more complex than that. We're all made up of good and bad. Sometimes the bad comes out more than the good, even if we don't mean it."

"You're telling me." 

Amber's eyes narrow. "Did something happen?" 

Vanessa considers, briefly, telling her about Charity - about sleeping with her, but wanting her out of her sight immediately afterwards. She wonders if she's become the same as all of the people who'd claimed to love Charity before. Another person who'd used her for her body. 

She pushes that thought away. Truthfully, she loves Charity. She knows she does. Every part of her misses Charity and hates that they're apart. But there's still so much resentment there - for the stabbing, for Johnny, for Charity turning a blind eye to how much she'd been struggling after it all. She's emerged from it as a different woman she thinks maybe Charity has, too. She has no idea how they're supposed to fit back together. Not when Vanessa's mind barely makes sense to herself most days. She's supposed to be the rational one. 

"No. Nothing happened," she lies. "But I am gonna drive to see Tracy today." 

"I just want you to remember that you have to forgive yourself no matter your sister's reaction. It might not be what you hoped, and you have to prepare yourself for that. Progress comes from your own actions, not others'."

She can still see it: the way Charity's eyes had widened as she'd leaned across to kiss her.

"Yeah. I know."

 

 

* * *

 

 

The minute she drives into the village, she finds herself wishing she'd thought to ask Charity what everyone thinks of her now.

She sees a couple villagers do double takes as they catch sight of her car. Undoubtedly word has spread about what she'd done to Tracy. They probably all think she's dangerous. After all, what sort of monster attacks their own sister?

Vanessa parks up by the pub, carefully avoiding looking up at Charity's bedroom window, and walks down to Tug Ghyll. The village looks just the same as it had before she'd left. There's simply a little more sunshine; more flowers have bloomed in the late springtime weather. Somehow, these changes soothe her nerves. But only a little. She's still sweating when she knocks on the front door.

Her dad answers. His eyes widen at the sight of her and Vanessa gives him a watery smile, stepping up to hug him. She tenses up, wondering if he's going to reject her - but then his arms are around her.

"Teeny. You're back." 

She steps out of the hug. "I wanted to see Tracy."

"Right. Right, of course. Come in." 

She follows him into her used-to-be home. It's strange, thinking about how she used to think she'd live there someday with Charity. Now, when she steps in, her eyes are instantly drawn to the spot where she'd pushed Tracy down. There's no proof that it'd happened but Vanessa can still see all the blood in her mind's eye.

"How is she?" 

"She's - " Her dad hesitates. "She's fine. I'll just, uh, I'll go get her. Take a seat."

Vanessa doesn't sit when he heads upstairs. She hovers anxiously, playing with the strap of her bag, jumping at every noise she hears from upstairs. 

It feels like a lifetime before Tracy finally makes her way downstairs. Her expression is carefully neutral. Vanessa searches her face for any signs of the attack, but of course it's been months, so there's nothing there. 

It's obvious something has happened, though. Tracy stands too far away from her. There's no sunny greeting, no bright smile directed at her. It's almost like they're back in their early days. Back when they had no idea who they were to each other.

"Dad said you wanted to see me."

"Yeah, I did. Do. I do want to see you. Sorry," Vanessa sighs, fiddling with the zip of her jacket now. "I had this big speech planned and now I can't... I can't remember what it was I meant to say."

"A speech. Wow. I must be special," Tracy says flatly, looking down at the floor.

"You are," she says softly. She takes a cautious step forward. "Tracy, I'm so sorry. You have no idea what it's been like - "

"I have no idea?" Tracy interrupts. She frowns, tears building in her eyes. "Right. Because it wasn't like my sister attacked me and then didn't speak to me for two months. Didn't even call to see how I'm doing. Yeah, V, you're right. I have no idea what it's been like." 

"I deserve that."

"Yeah. You do." 

Tracy crosses her arms over her chest. Her tears are smudging her mascara and make it clumpy on her eyelashes. Vanessa takes another step forward, about three feet between them now. Tracy stands her ground.

"I'm seeing a therapist now. I have been since I - since - anyway, she said it's PTSD. It's what was making me so angry. It's what made me... you know."

Tracy doesn't reply. Vanessa edges even closer to her. They're both stood right next to it - right next to that spot. She wonders how her sister still stomachs living here. Vanessa knows she'll never be able to step foot into The Woolpack again and consider it her home. Not when she remembers it up in flames. Not when she remembers bleeding out behind it, shards of beer bottle embedded in her stomach. 

"I'm getting better. And I'm - I just wanted you to know I'm making the right choices. And you were right. There really was something wrong with me and I  _did_ need a break. And I'm sorry, Tracy. I'm really - I'm so sorry," she gets out, choked.

"But not sorry enough to call me." 

"I didn't know what to say." 

Tracy huffs a laugh. "But you know what to say to Charity, yeah?" 

"What?"

"She's been going to see you. She mentioned it once. She's been right moody these past couple days though," Tracy comments. Vanessa feels her stomach drop. "I don't get it. You broke up with her because she wasn't supporting you but  _I_ was, V. And what do I get? A broken nose and then nothing." 

"Tracy - "

"I just wanted to help you." 

"You did. You still are. You've been looking after Johnny for me even after what I did." Vanessa pauses, bringing a shaking hand up to wipe her own tears away. "I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, but - "

Tracy crosses the rest of the space between them. Vanessa's apology gets lost when her sister brings her in for a tight hug. Vanessa grips her fiercely. 

"There's nothing to forgive. Alright? You're my sister, V. I'd do anything for you." 

"Me too," Vanessa croaks. "I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you too," Tracy tells her, and Vanessa feels the lost parts of her return.

 

 

* * *

 

 

In the weeks leading up to the trial, she begins mending her relationship with Tracy. She waits for it to be awkward and hesitant, despite Tracy's forgiveness. It isn't. They fall back into their old ways. Tracy comes to visit her with a bottle of wine and they watch trashy romcoms. Tracy whoops when the male lead takes his shirt off and then teases Vanessa when she blushes bright red when the female lead takes hers off, too.

Johnny visits more often. There's always someone with them, whether it's Rhona or her dad or Tracy. Vanessa knows it's going to be a long time before any of them trust her to be alone with her son, but when she shows Rhona two-bedroom places she's thinking about moving her and Johnny into she's supportive.

She knits. She's switched to a royal blue colour for the jumper. Someday, she knows, she'll get it right, and then maybe she'll be able to rest.

She tries not to think about Charity.

(She fails.)

 

 

* * *

 

 

The morning of the trial, she can't keep her breakfast down. She forces herself to have a mug of tea and a slice of toast to calm her nerves, but it all comes rushing back up while she's doing her hair. She adds an extra bit of blush to hide her pale complexion. 

She arrives too early, of course, and sits in the car, too afraid to go inside in case she spots sight of Donny in the hallway with his lawyer. They'd only shared the briefest of moments together, only a handful of words exchanged between them, yet that one moment has drastically changed the course of her life. She still remembers everything - even the lack of regret on his face. That's what'd hurt her the most, she thinks. What makes her blood run cold still. He'd just shrugged it off, like it was just any other day.

Vanessa loses herself in her thoughts and by the time she comes back out of them, she's three minutes late. She rushes out of the car and almost topples over as she dashes across the road and into the courthouse, where she immediately bumps into someone.

"Ness," the person says, arms coming up to catch her.

Vanessa's cheeks warm. She takes a step away. "Charity."

Charity's all done up, wearing what looks like a new blouse, her hair pulled back into a ponytail. Vanessa loves her.

"You came," she states obviously.

"Yeah, well, you asked me to. So." Charity shrugs. "I'm here." 

Over Charity's shoulder, she catches sight of her lawyer waving her over. Vanessa almost trips again, stumbling around Charity.

"I have to go," she says, but hesitates. "Thank you. For coming, I mean." 

Charity nods. "Go. Your lawyer looks like he's about to faint if you don't." 

Vanessa laughs uneasily. She does join her lawyer, who does look a bit faint - Vanessa's come to realise, over the course of their meetings, that he's relatively new. Still, she's not had any problems with him, and she's ninety percent certain he knows what he's doing.

 

As he ushers her through the doors, Vanessa quickly glances over her shoulder. Charity's still there, staring straight at her, and right before the doors close she gives her a smile.

Vanessa takes a deep breath and knows she'll be okay.


	5. Chapter 5

_I'm not going to break,_ she thinks as she takes the stand.

 _I am already broken,_ she thinks as she begins to speak, and spots Charity sitting in the crowd, giving her an encouraging smile.  _Maybe that's okay._

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

"Babe." 

Charity's waiting right outside the door as the case is dismissed for the day. Vanessa walks straight into her arms. Charity holds her without hesitation and Vanessa inhales deeply - that familiar scent of coconut and vanilla; the smell of ale that she can never wash away.

"You took the stand in the same room."

Vanessa pulls away just enough to look up at her.

"Yeah, well, I figured if you could do it with Bails after everything he put you through - I'd be able to do it, too."

Charity knocks her chin with her index finger.

"Proud of you, kid."

Because she can - because she wants to - she cups Charity's face between her palms and pulls her down to kiss her in the middle of the courthouse. Charity kisses her gently and Vanessa sighs into it.

"Stay with me tonight."

Charity's smile is more of a flinch. "Not a good idea, babe."

"I don't mean it like that. I just don't want to be alone."

The flinch softens into a real smile.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

They buy a bottle of wine and rest their bare feet on her coffee table. They buy a copy of  _Thelma & Louise. _Charity spends half the movie comparing Vanessa to Thelma and doing her best attempt at a southern American drawl. Vanessa laughs, carefree, and Charity ropes an arm around her and smacks a kiss against her cheek.

Charity does stay. She tries to take the sofa, but Vanessa pulls her into the bedroom, and Charity makes a cheeky _only if you're_ _sure you can keep your hands off me_ remark. She does end up in Charity's arms, because lately that seems to be the safest place to stay, and she falls asleep to the rhythm of Charity's breathing.

Sometime in the night, she wakes to Charity drawing patterns against her back.

"What are you thinking?" She asks, still half-asleep.

"I'm just... proud of you." 

"That's all?"

"No," Charity replies, kissing her forehead, "that's not all."

Charity slips her hands beneath Vanessa's sleep shirt. Her hands are warm against her skin and Vanessa drifts into sleep once more. It's a dreamless sleep.

 

 

* * *

 

 

In the morning, she wakes before Charity, who's snoring loudly as she leaves the room. She has a long shower and allows herself the luxury of tears. By the time she's out there's no trace of them anymore.

Charity emerges sometime later. They share jam on toast and listen to the morning radio. Vanessa giggles and her socked feet slide against the kitchen tiles when Charity ropes her into dancing. Charity still has jam clinging to the edges of her lips so Vanessa leans in to kiss it away, sweet and ripe on her tongue. Charity's smiling afterwards.

She's  _missed_ this - just spending time with Charity. She'd forgotten, somewhere among the drama, why it is they work so well. It's not just because they've weathered the hard times together. They genuinely enjoy each others' presence once the smoke has cleared. Charity's  _fun._ She makes her laugh. She twirls her in the morning sunlight and dips her, ridiculous and dramatic and far too smug with herself. Vanessa loves her. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

"Charity's had quite the spring in her step recently," Rhona remarks as they watch Johnny and Leo play in the park.

"I wouldn't know."

Rhona elbows her. "Liar." 

Vanessa laughs and takes a sip of her coffee. She's hyper aware of how close she is to the pub she is right now - and, in turn, Charity. But it's been a few days since the trial started, since Charity stayed, and while she'd enjoyed spending time with her she doesn't want to push. She doesn't want to push herself, mostly. She's not sure if she's ready for anything more than what it is: spending time together.

Tracy approaches them, hands in her jean jacket pockets. She greets Rhona and leans down to kiss Vanessa's cheek.

"When are you finding out the verdict?" Tracy asks, taking a seat with them.

"I dunno, um," Vanessa sighs, wrinkling her nose and picking at the label on the coffee cup. "I have to go back Friday afternoon. So I guess it's then. If the jury have reached a decision. It's not, well, it's not a big crime so it's a pretty small court. There were a couple other cases held before mine, so..."

"It is a big crime, it almost cost your life," Tracy protests. "Why can't they see that?"

"It's okay, Tracy."

"I wish you'd let us come with you. To support you," Rhona interjects. 

"Yeah, exactly. You don't have to do it alone."

"I know," Vanessa replies, and doesn't explain her smile.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"You ready?"

Vanessa checks her reflection in her car window, tugging at her blazer. Charity stands beside her patiently. 

"Yeah. Yeah, I think so." 

"This looks good on you, by the way," Charity comments, her thumb stroking across the baby blue fabric. " _Very_ good." 

"Control yourself," she replies, fighting to keep the smile out of her voice.

They file into the courthouse after the previous case has been cleared. Donny's solicitor looks worried. The man himself has had a blank face through it all. Like he's detached; not really involved in anything that's happening here.

God, Vanessa wishes she could be like that. She wishes she could stop feeling it all. But the stabbing has left her with nightmares and a broken off engagement. She can't help but care. Truthfully, she doesn't know what she'll do if Donny's let off with a light sentence.

They rise. Charity's hand finds hers. Vanessa clings onto it so tightly that it must hurt, but Charity doesn't make a peep.

Vanessa watches Donny as he's found guilty on counts of Grievous Bodily Harm and Wounding, with intent, and arson. Still, the expression doesn't change. Vanessa hears her own heartbeat in her ears. Why isn't he reacting? Why doesn't he seem half as destroyed as she feels?

He's given a sentence of seven years. 

Charity squeezes her hand and presses a kiss to her temple. Vanessa does her best to smile. Donny doesn't even look at her when he's lead away. He still seems as removed from it all as he had from the beginning.

"Seven years," Charity says with wonder as they leave. "Not enough if you ask me, babe. Fantastic news though, isn't it? What do you want to do to celebrate?"

They end up back in Vanessa's flat, in her bed, wrapped up in each other's arms. Vanessa wills herself to cry, to feel something, but she can't. Their limbs are intertwined and her body rises and falls with the movement of Charity's breathing. Her thigh's pressed between Charity's, her foot hooked around one of her ankles, while Charity's hands play with the ends of her hair. 

Charity drifts off to sleep in the middle of a sentence. Vanessa stays awake, watching the night sky.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"You've made fantastic progress, Vanessa. You have to understand feeling this way doesn't negate that. Recovery isn't a linear journey. There will be lapses in your moods, in your actions, but you have to focus on picking yourself up and carrying on. That's where your strength comes in," Amber says during their next session as Vanessa stares at the clumps in her mascara.

"I'm tired of being strong," she murmurs.

Amber blinks, the clumps of mascara going with her, and links her fingers over her knee. Vanessa catches sight of one of her chipped nails. Why hadn't she noticed these imperfections before?

"You mentioned that you've been rebuilding your relationship with Charity. Don't you think you can let her be strong for you? It isn't wrong to depend on someone else in times like these."

"No, I don't - " Vanessa shakes her head, picking at lint on her jeans. "I can't."

"Why not?" 

"Well,  _I'm_ the one that always has to be strong. For everyone. I can't stop being that, so."

"Don't you think you deserve compassion?"

Vanessa's throat narrows and tears sting her eyes. Amber hands her a tissue and Vanessa accepts it, clumsily wiping at her cheeks. She knows the answer to that one and she hates it.

"Vanessa, what happened to you wasn't anyone's fault but Donny's."

"If I'd just.. if I'd just listened, and called the police - "

"Donny is the one who set the fire and assaulted you. Not you." She pauses. "Not Charity, either."

"I know," Vanessa sighs, dropping her head into her hands. "I know. I just thought I'd feel - I don't know, like I've won? Which is stupid because I  _saw_ Charity after the Bails case and I know that wasn't winning. But he didn't... he didn't bat a bloody eyelid, and I've been spending so long suffering. I just don't know how I'm gonna be me again."

"You're not going to be the old you again. You know that. We've discussed this. But you're you right now," Amber says supportively. "After everything you've been through, I'd say that's something to be proud of."

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Vanessa visits the pub.

Chas grins at her from behind the bar, passing her a free pint. A couple villagers approach her to give them their thoughts on the case. Even Cain makes an appearance. He looks surprised to see her, but buys her a pint, and she finds she doesn't hate him half as much as she did months ago - maybe she even understands him, just a little.

Noah brings Moses out to see her and the little boy sticks to her like glue. He sits in her lap and demands a bite of her lunch every time she raises her fork to her lips. Noah laughs, picking at a packet of crisps and an orange juice, and the conversation between them is easy. Easier than it's ever been. Noah had been so  _against_ her in the early days, so mistrusting, and also a teenager. She's pleasantly surprised to find a common ground with him.

"I almost forgot," she says as she prepares to leave, pulling a royal blue jumper from her bag and holding it out to him, "I made this for you." 

"I thought you were knitting this for Johnny?"

"I did. Don't worry, his is green. You won't match. But I thought you'd make one too. You don't have to wear it. I just wanted you to have it." 

Noah tries to hide his smile, but she sees it's there. "Alright. Thanks."

Moses slobbers kisses against her cheeks when she says goodbye. Chas rounds the bar and pulls the toddler onto her hip.

"Charity'll be back in an hour, if you want to stay." 

"Nah, you're alright. I just popped in to visit you all."

Chas smiles. "It's good to see you, love."

They share a hug. Vanessa leaves the pub feeling a little bit lighter. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Charity turns up on her doorstep that evening with a copy of  _Footloose._ Vanessa considers turning her away, but Charity wears such a hopeful smile that she relents, stepping aside and letting her in.

Charity must sense that her heart isn't it in when they sit together either end of the sofa. They're not even a third of the way into the movie when Charity grabs the remote and pauses it. 

"Alright, what's going on? It's like the bloody Artic in here, babe."

Vanessa rests her cheek in her palm, her elbow pressed against the back of the sofa. Charity turns to face her, pulling her legs up under her.

"I think... I think I need to get some things off of my chest."

"Alright." Charity takes a deep breath. "Go on, then."

"I don't want to say these things to hurt you, Charity, but we're not going to get anywhere if we're not honest with each other. We've both seen what happens when I try to hide what I'm feeling so - I guess... I think you should know that, for a long time, I - I came very close to hating you. After the stabbing. I blamed you." 

Charity's eyes go dark and she looks away. "I know." 

"It was misplaced blame. It doesn't matter whether I'd moved into the pub or if I'd still lived in Tug Ghyll. Our argument didn't have anything to do with it, either. It was a simple case of wrong place, wrong time. Even Donny said that himself." 

Charity still doesn't look at her. Vanessa reaches forward, linking her hand with Charity's, rubbing her thumb over the back. There are tears in Charity's eyes, she knows, no matter how much Charity tries to hide them. Because she  _knows_ Charity, inside out, completely. And she loves her.

"Like I said I - I'm not saying this to hurt you. But if we're gonna get anywhere in this relationship - "

"Relationship?" Charity interrupts, head snapping round.

"Well, yeah. I thought that's what you - "

"It is. Yes. I didn't realise you..."

"I never stopped loving you, Charity. The nightmares were just loud enough to forget for a little while, that's all," Vanessa murmurs, shrugging. "If you can forgive me - "

Charity closes the distance between them, kissing her fiercely. Vanessa squeaks in surprise but closes her eyes, going with it.

Charity kisses her, and kisses her, and kisses her. Until it feels like Vanessa's lungs are going to explode. Even when she pulls away, Charity keeps ahold of her, dotting kisses across her cheeks and her nose and neck and then finds her lips again. Everything in the room spins and she finds herself being pulled into Charity's lap, her thighs either side of her hips, Charity's hands in her air.

"I love the bones of you, babe," Charity pants when they part. She kisses her again before she speaks. Vanessa's toes curl. "Almost losing you it - it made me desperate. Maybe I didn't pay enough attention, I don't know, I was just so worried about keeping you that I managed to miss all the signs."

Vanessa thumbs Charity's tears away. She leans in to kiss her, softly this time, their lips barely even brushing. Sharing air.

"It's okay. We're here together now. That's what matters."

"But are you - babe, are you _okay_?"

"I don't know. I think I'm still going to have my bad days. I think there'll be a lot of them. I don't... I still struggle knowing that Donny never really even spared a thought about me. I don't know how to deal with the fact he only got seven years for almost killing me. I just know I don't want to do it alone anymore."

"I'll be there," Charity promises, eyes glittering. "We'll figure it out together."

Vanessa presses her smile against Charity's.

"Sounds good to me."

 

 


End file.
